


The Bet

by dapperwings



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperwings/pseuds/dapperwings
Summary: This is just a bit of rivalry between Jason and Tim. There’s no canon timeline here and it’s a purely self-indulgent piece of fun. Enjoy!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

“Fuck!” Jason grimaced as he slipped on the rooftop. He scrambled, regained his balance, and took off. 

He ran hard, the edge of the building coming up in three, two, one…he leapt, landed on the next rooftop, rolled, and kept running.

A second later, he saw his target, just a rooftop over to the right and making for the fire exit stairs on the side of the building. The figure reached the top of the stairs, then turned and looked back.

Jason ducked out of sight behind a huge boiler. He climbed it and peered over the top.

Looked like he’d decided not to take the rickety fire exit after all; instead, the figure moved towards the middle of the roof, like he was lining up to risk the jump to the next building.

Jason adjusted to a better angle, and pulled out his gun. One bullet did him in. He watched the body jerk and fall to the roof of the building.

Jason activated his comm. “Number 18? Yeah, Red, that makes _18_ for me tonight, is down.”

Tim’s voice crackled over comms just a second later. “ _Down_?” He didn’t even try to hide the implication. Jason’s smile fell a little.

“He’s fine. Probably,” he snarled, then added, “if you’re really that worried about him, check the buildings between 8th and 15th. Or 17th?” Jason cocked his head, the screen on his helmet zooming in, but he couldn’t read the street sign from this distance. “Somewhere over that way.” He gestured, even though Tim couldn’t see it.

He heard Tim sigh over comms, which made him smirk again. He’d figured as much. Tim opted for plausible deniability when it came to Jason. Most of the family did, actually. He shook his head, then asked, “So what’s your count, Red?”

A pause. “Seven.”

The chuckle turned into an outright laugh as he jumped off the boiler, landing back on the roof. “Seven? Aw, baby bird, that’s adorable.”

Judging by the silence, he’d pressed a button. Tim always did get uptight when he was losing.

Jason grinned. They had a pretty sweet bet; Tim would _meticulously_ clean his motorcycle if Jason took out the most goons on patrol tonight. Tim’s side of the bet was a question he got to ask for every criminal Jason put away tonight. Tim’s choice, and he had to answer them honestly. Not a deal he appreciated making, but he was confident he’d win anyways, so what did it matter?

He ignored the part of his mind that was unsettled by Tim’s wager. What did Tim want to know from him so badly he took a bet he had to know he’d almost certainly lose?

These weren’t just any goons; these were Penguin’s men. Oswald had been causing trouble lately, and Jason decided it was time to push back. He couldn’t go directly after him, because _Bruce_ , but he could for sure hobble his operations.

Of course, there were hands-off ways of doing that, but Jason was in a mood. While the Big Bat went off skulking around whatever part of the city he was terrorizing tonight, Jason and Tim struck a wager: person to take out the most of Penguin’s men tonight won. (“Injure, Jason, as in, not _kill_ ” Tim stressed, and Jason rolled his eyes. “I _got_ it, T.”) It was pretty easy to recognize them; Oswald was the only crime lord who insisted on his men all wearing his symbol, an umbrella, on their sleeves.

He made it back to the street, to an unlit corner when his comm crackled. A couple of grunts, then Tim’s voice, breathing hard, “Nine. And the nights’ not over yet, Hood.”

Jason watched the building across the street; an old bar, nothing out of the ordinary.

“All the more time to extend my lead. Hope you’ve got a hefty stock of oil and rags in the cave. I want my baby _shining_.”

“I dunno, you’re well on your way to making this an even game of twenty questions.” Tim said. “Which was more than I estimated, by the way.”

“See? That’s your problem, Red.” Jason headed across the street, circling the front entrance to the bar in favor of the alley at the back of the building. “You’re always sizing things up. Planning too much. Me? I just go in, guns blazing.” Jason turned off his comm’s audio (nobody likes the sound of gunshots in their ear) and rushed through the backdoor of the bar. It opened into a small room, like he expected, and there were six men, all sporting Penguin’s umbrella.

Okay, that was more than he was expecting. He started firing.

He was in the heart of Penguin’s territory; he’d run the crime lord’s iceberg for half a year and had been a crime boss in his own right a lot longer.

Tim might be good, and have access to daddy bat’s big computer, but he didn’t know the beating heart of criminal Gotham like Jason did. Jason knew Oswald’s territory _intimately_. Tonight wasn’t as much a game of chess as it was assembling a puzzle. Find the right place, find the right people, done. Easy-peasy.

He aimed for kneecaps and shoulders, mostly: he'd respect Bruce’s stupid rules for now. But that sure as hell didn’t mean he had to save any of the people he shot; if they bled out, that’s on them.

The last guy went down. The next thing he heard was “And how’s that working for you?” There was no worry in Tim’s voice, or judgement this time, both of which Jason appreciated. Getting the batfam to trust him was still a work in progress, but Tim seemed to be an early convert. He switched his comms back on. 

“Seems to be okay. Twenty-four.”  


“ _What_?” Tim hissed.

“Sorry, Red.” he said, grinning under the helmet. “Face it. You’re in over your head. I can keep going all night, or you can just surrender with grace now.”

He let the offer stand in the air. Personally, he wouldn’t mind either way. Staying out meant shooting more bad guys. Going in meant witnessing Tim’s humiliation and getting his bike cleaned sooner than he’d expected.

He’d let the kid decide, because he knew for sure that Tim wasn’t going to win now. There was a chance early on, there always was with Tim. But as the night wore on it became obvious that Tim just didn’t have the knowledge he did to win this bet.

Jason glanced around the small room as he waited for Tim’s answer. The six men lay on the floor, some of them still and others twitching or groaning. There were a couple glasses of whiskey on the table, and Jason raised an eyebrow under the helmet, wondering what Penguin’s men drank. That, he _didn’t_ know. He looked around for the bottle.

His comms hissed. “Fine.”

Jason smiled, letting his search for the bottle go unsolved.

“Fine what?” he pressed, just to see what Tim would do.

He could _hear_ the agitation in Tim's silence; surrender was not easy for any of them, he knew that. But Tim was basically his younger brother and Jason felt it necessary to train him in the art of humiliation. Tim would probably, no, _definitely_ , pay it back later anyways.

“Fine. You win.” Tim’s voice _glared_.

“Good enough. See you at the cave, Red.”

Tim didn’t answer, and the faint crackle followed by no ambient noise told Jason he’d turned off his comm. Jason headed out.

He’d go to the cave, but first, he had to get his bike.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now for Tim's POV

Tim leaned against the railing on the batcave, waiting.

He’d already changed from his costume into a truly raggedy old band t-shirt and ripped jeans. He’d also made sure the cave had the supplies he needed to clean Jason’s bike. Just the thought made him grimace.

Ugh. He hated dirt, and grime, and menial labour, and _washing things_.

He hated waiting too. He was just starting to think Jason was doing this on purpose when he heard the sound of a motorcycle in the tunnel. A few seconds later Jason roared in.  


Tim followed his progress down the narrow road into the bat cave, watching as Jason zoomed to a stop and stepped off the bike, putting the kickstand down. He looked around until he saw Tim. He was still in costume.

Tim glared as Jason popped his helmet completely off and gave him a too-big smile. He glared harder when Jason jangled the keys before pressing them into Tim’s hand. “I don't want to see a single speck, T. She better shine.”

“Fuck off.” Tim clenched the keys as Jason laughed and headed towards the showers.

Tim parked the motorcycle in the cave’s washing area, which was basically a grated floor that collected the dirty water underneath and drained it somewhere on the property. Tim never bothered to find out where. This was a part of the job he avoided as much as possible.

He turned his nose up at the bike, trying to find an angle to get out of this. Nothing. Soon, he was up to his elbows in suds.  


A loud screech made him jerk and look up. Jason was standing near the batcomputer, heading towards him.

He was _dragging_ one of the metal folding chairs they kept there across the floor of the cave. The legs scraped against the floor and Tim glared, the sound raking across his ears.

Jason gave him an innocent smile.

Tim almost wanted to kill him again. He stopped washing as Jason reached the top of the stairs.

“Don’t you da-“ his threat was cut off by a clanging, rhythmic _thunking_ as Jason let the chair hit each step on the way down.  


Tim’s eyes narrowed and his left eyebrow started to twitch.

Jason reached the bottom, and then there was the metal grating, which made a _lovely_ clacking sound as the legs slid over the holes. Tim’s shoulders jumped. The hair stood up on the back of his neck.

Finally Jason reached Tim and pulled the chair out, sitting down and stretching his legs with his arms behind his head.

Tim glared _hard_. Jason kept smiling.

He took it out on the bike. Scrubbing hard and scraping harder. It was disgusting, and he was _really_ sure that he didn’t want to know exactly what it was he was scrubbing off. As long as he told himself it was all just dirt, he could do this.

Occasionally, he glanced at Jason, who seemed content looking at his phone. Alright, new plan. If Jason was gonna sit here all night and watch, then Tim was gonna make use of him.

“You tricked me.”

“You agreed to the bet,” Jason countered, not even looking up from his phone.

“I agreed to the bet based on a mutual understanding of the underlying conditions. Which were in your favor, and which you didn’t tell me about.”

“Oh? How so?”

Tim gritted his teeth. He hated when Jason made him spell things out. 

“You knew more about Penguin’s men than I did.”

“I’m flattered,” Jason retorted, “but maybe I’m just better at this than you are.”

Tim was _this_ close to throwing his grimy, soaked sponge _right_ at Jason’s face. That image helped him calm down a bit, actually.

“None of us just stumbles into a group of six criminals we’re looking for on a whim. Ever. You knew where those men were before we even left the cave.”

Jason leaned forward. “Can you prove that, T?” he asked, something dark in his voice now which, from Tim’s experience with Jason, meant _tread carefully_.

Tim snarled at Jason but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of answering.

Jason slumped back and gestured at the front of the bike “Missed a spot.”

Tim was going to _kill_ him.

With effort, _herculean_ effort, he pushed that idea out of his mind and focused on the bike. His thoughts circled back to Jason’s words. _“Can you prove that, T?”_

He couldn’t, of course. He could track Jason’s movements over the night, which would show him heading right into Penguin territory, but he couldn’t prove how Jason knew to go there. At least not without delving deep into things he knew Jason wouldn’t give up easily.

That’s why he’d agreed to the bet in the first place.

He knew Jason’s history. He suspected that Jason knew more about the Penguin, and possibly some of the other crime bosses, than he ever let on. Tim _hadn’t_ planned on losing so soundly, but now he knew for sure-Jason’s knowledge of Gotham’s criminals filled in holes even he and Bruce didn’t know about.

Tim wanted that information. And he needed it, if he and Bruce and the rest of the family were going to do their job. But Jason and Bruce weren’t on great terms. Neither shared anything they weren’t absolutely forced to.

So, Tim had resorted to other tactics. And despite losing, he knew he was headed on the right path.

But he also knew he couldn’t get any of that information out of Jason now, and frankly, he just wanted to be done cleaning the stupid bike.

For now, he’d deal with Jason’s gloating. And start to plan his revenge.

Because oh _yes_ , he’d make Jason pay for this one.


End file.
